


these are my robust ropes

by la_victorienne



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-03
Updated: 2008-07-03
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne





	

tea·cup /ˈtiˌkʌp/ [tee-kuhp]  
–noun  
1\. a cup in which tea is served, usually of small or moderate size.  
2\. a teacupful.  
—Idiom  
**3\. tempest in a teacup or teapot, a disturbance or uproar about little or nothing.**

“Falling down I reached my highest line  
I've got a good idea what breaks you makes you shine”  
\- Catherine Wheel, “Sparks Are Gonna Fly”

  
“Ow.” Ianto sighed, set down the box of outdated files he was carrying, and moved to get up, looking around his crash site to see if any papers had come out of the crate. “Bollocking – did someone spill something and fail to remove it from the area? I'm not just the support staff anymore, I'll have you both know,” he bellowed, but good-naturedly. “And my arse hurts, so feel guilty!” He gave a brief and comfortable smile, his back aching a little as he lifted the box again, and turned towards the steps to the archives. Where Jack stood.

“Are you okay?” Ianto lifted his eyebrows and smiled.

“Of course. A little bruised, and at this rate I'll leave this place with no dignity whatsoever, but otherwise I'm perfectly fine.” The storm in Jack's eyes did not subside. “Honestly, Jack, I'm really quite all right. A spill, that's all, I'll get it in a minute.” Jack said nothing, though he seemed to be fuming. “Jack? I'm really okay.” Jack fairly exploded.

“Well, don't be okay, dammit! It's not all right! Tosh and Owen are dead, you were attacked by Daleks for the second time in your life, which is not something most people survive once, much less twice – hell, I didn't even survive them the first time, and that's when I could die – and you could be gone and dead and exterminated and how do expect me to live without you?” Jack finally looked directly at Ianto, who was staring at him, slightly open-mouthed.

“Jack. I slipped down the stairs. I'm really, truly, actually okay, and where I'm bruised you can tend later. Nothing is the matter, really.” He set the box down on a desk near his hip and put a hand on Jack's shoulder, but Jack turned his head away.

“I'm not,” he said in a small voice. Ianto tutted and drew Jack into an embrace that felt oddly familiar, more so than their usually playful affection.

“We're okay, Jack. Even without Tosh and Owen – god knows I miss them as much as the next of us, and I want them back so much – but we're okay. Gwen and I survived the Daleks and you came home, so to be quite honest I'm counting my blessings today.” Jack was quiet, his eyes closed and his cheek against Ianto's shoulder. Ianto hooked an arm around Jack's waist and guided him to the sofa, easing him down the same way he'd done Gwen, Tosh, Owen, even Suzie at different and equally memorable times. He smiled, relishing the rare chance to be Jack's anchor.

“Tell me about the first time you died,” he murmured. “I want to know.”


End file.
